


Care For You

by Megalomaniacal



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Consensual, Homophobia, M/M, Ramsay is His Own Warning, Secret Relationship, but he doesn’t hurt Theon in this I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-02-29 21:44:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18786817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalomaniacal/pseuds/Megalomaniacal
Summary: Ramsay Bolton saves Theon from his own men’s attack on Winterfell, and keeps him safe at the Dreadfort.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted consensual loving thramsay okay  
> I got lazy so this is only two chapters. Sorry y’all

Ramsay Bolton was a cruel man. An evil man. A sick, vile, sordid excuse for a human being. He got off on causing pain, on receiving it on his own terms. Murder made his cock strain in his breeches. He stroked himself to the memory of screams from the dungeon at night. He cared for no one, and no one cared for him. Until Winterfell. Until Theon Greyjoy. 

Handsome beyond belief, he’d heard tales, but nothing prepared him for the first time he’d laid eyes on the Ironborn. Cocky, arrogant, and infuriating- yet there was vulnerability in those sea green eyes, a sort of hunger, a sort of need. A craving for approval, for someone to tell him he was doing what was right. He stayed hungry. 

Ramsay lost himself the day he noticed that vulnerability in Theon’s eyes. He began to hang around him more, to show up at random, to talk to Theon whenever he could. And Theon did talk, wary at first, but desperate for someone who’d listen to him. Someone who’d understand. It is better to be cruel than weak, he would say, his eyes wet and his cheeks pink, hands clenched into fists. Ramsay knew cruel. His father was cruel- cold and quiet, but cruel. Theon’s father was similar in his cruelty, in his loveless nature, but he was loud about it. Loud and angry. 

Theon began to call for Kyra at night less and less, and for Ramsay more and more. He demanded Ramsay- or Reek, as he knew him- bathe. He demanded it so he wouldn’t gag when Ramsay sat beside him in bed, looked down at him as he listened to him talk. As weeks went by, the two grew closer. Something about Theon drew Ramsay to him. Something about Theon caused Ramsay to feel odd. And so he ignored his father, ignored his commands, and instead decided to help Theon. 

They became an odd pair of friends. Yet, it was a long while before Ramsay told him the truth of who he was.

“Theon.”

“Hm?” The Ironborn looked up at him, head lying in his lap, Ramsay’s fingers combing through his hair. 

“My name is not Reek.” 

“Well, I assumed that was merely a-“

“My name has never been Reek, even as a joke amongst friends. No. I knew a man named Reek. He is dead now, and died pretending to be me.” 

Realization was slowly dawning on Theon’s face. 

“I am Ramsay, the bastard son of Lord Roose Bolton.”

Theon’s eyes were wide. “Bolton. You- Lady Hornwood-“

“It is better to be cruel than weak.” Ramsay stared at him. “And I am cruel.” 

“You-“ Theon went to sit up, fear flashing across his expression, but Ramsay rugged at his hair to pull him back down. 

“Theon.”

“You- you murder, you rape- you locked your wife in a tower and let her starve to death...”

“I did not love her. Never have I loved a woman.” Ramsay’s hands, despite their size, remained gentle with their touches as he continued to comb through Theon’s hair with his fingers. He had been beginning to think he was not capable of love, that he was a nasty, broken thing. But when he first laid eyes on Theon, his cold, ugly heart seemed to warm in his chest. 

“But you’ve been with them.”

“Aye. But not loved. Not cared for them.” Ramsay softly nudged Theon to sit up, and so he did. “I am a bastard, and have a bastard’s urges. I am finding myself to have urges more sinful than desiring a woman.”

Theon stared at him. 

“I am finding that I may be caring for someone.” His eyes, so sharp and icy and pale, seemed to soften. “It is not in my nature, to do so. I hurt. I torture and rape and kill. And yet...” 

“You... you are fond of someone at Winterfell?” Theon looked and sounded uncertain. 

“Fond of a Prince, yes.” 

Theon, who had spent many years longing for Robb, many years looking at himself in disgust while pretending to be so horribly vain, was suddenly faced with another who felt the same type of sinful affections as him. 

“A Prince- that is- you know, that is not-“

“Theon.” Ramsay’s hands cupped his face, and he leaned in, kissing him. His lips were thick, almost wormy, and yet he kissed well. Theon’s lips were soft, just a little plump, and they moved against his, parting to allow sweet little sounds to escape. They pulled away from the kiss, after a time. “I know you have been sending Kyra away in order to spend your nights with me.” 

“I have not desired her.” 

“Have you desired me?” 

Theon’s eyes flickered up and down, taking in the sight of Ramsay, all of him. Ramsay knew he wasn’t a handsome man by any means, yet when Theon looked him in the eye once again, it felt as if he were. 

“I should not...”

“I have desired you, Prince Theon.”

The Prince swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “A man should not desire another man.”

“And yet, you do. You desired Robb, your king. And now you desire me, and I you. I have never once cared for anyone but Reek, and even he I tossed aside with ease. I did not blink an eye at his death. I am unsure I could be so indifferent if it were you.” 

“Men should not desire other men. It is sinful, it is not allowed.”

Despite his insistence, he practically melted in Ramsay’s arms as he was kissed again. His lips moved with the other man’s, and he was making those sweet sounds again. Ramsay felt himself stirring in his small clothes. 

“You have slept with many women, and paid to do so, and you are worried of sin? You have hung the bodies of two boys and claimed them to be who they were not, and you worry the gods will cast you down for being with a man?” 

“There is one god. The Drowned God, and he takes pride in violence.”

“The Drowned God holds no power in the north, my Prince. I say after all we have done, the both of us will be going to hell anyway. How could a bit of affection hurt us now, after all else we’ve done?”

When Ramsay’s hand fell between Theon’s legs, he found him to be hard, achingly so. He helped him undo his breeches, and then rid himself of his own. Only once they were nude did they kiss again, lying facing each other atop the bed, one of Theon’s slender legs thrown over Ramsay’s hip. Theon was small next to him, slender and smooth even with his muscles. Ramsay’s hands explored his body, feeling every inch of skin, taking note of it as if it were a map he needed to remember. 

His heart beat in his chest in a way it had never before as those sea green eyes stared up at him, soft and vulnerable and yearning to be cared for. And Ramsay did, he cared for him, he cared for his lips with kisses and his body with soft caresses. Theon made such pretty sounds as Ramsay stroked between his legs, his cock throbbing and leaking as he gasped and whispered and moaned. He called Ramsay’s name as he came, and then did for him the same, using his hand to bring Ramsay to completion. 

“If it is sinful, why does it feel so good?” Ramsay teased gently. 

“Kiss me again. Please.” Was all Theon replied, ignoring the question, and Ramsay was happy to give him what he wanted. 

They kissed and held each other and fell asleep on the large bed, waking and returning to their duties the next day. The nights began to follow a pattern, and Ramsay soon had forgotten his own bed in favor of staying in Theon’s each night. But time was passing quickly, and Winterfell was far from safe, and letters continued to arrive from his father. 

It was a beautiful night, cloudless, Stars twinkling in the sky and wolves howling in the distance as Ramsay finally told Theon of his worries. 

“Run away with me.” The young Bolton said, staring intensely at Theon, pale eyes practically boring into him. “There are ways out of Winterfell. The maester told you, I know. You want to leave, Theon Greyjoy. Then leave. Before your men can turn against you. I’ve orders to capture you. I need not follow them. I’m merely a bastard, you know. If you stay, you will be killed or captured. You will be a prisoner in someone’s castle. If you run with me, you will be a prisoner in mine, but treated well. I swear it.” 

“A prisoner?”

“I cannot exactly bring you to my castle and claim you to be my betrothed.” Ramsay said with a crooked smile. “Tonight, my Prince. Please. We will run away before you lose the chance, and take refuge in my home. You will be neither killed nor tortured.”

Theon laid himself bare to Ramsay now, every night, showed him the darkest corners of his mind, his deepest worries. It had not taken long for Theon to trust him wholly. 

“We shall ride for the Dreadfort tonight then.” Theon finally decided. Ramsay’s heart fluttered and his normally cruel eyes looked at the Prince of Winterfell with nothing but affection. 

The two of them packed what things they could and set off in the middle of the night, Theon riding atop Smiler and Ramsay atop a strong but nameless horse. They were far from Winterfell by the time dawn came, and though Theon did not know it, his men and Ramsay’s men were tearing each other apart within the castle they’d left. 

It took some time, but they eventually saw a castle in the distance, thick dark walls and massive, pointed towers. The Dreadfort, Ramsay told Theon. He made them stop, took off his cloak and threw it overtop of him. He abandoned his horse to ride Smiler with Theon, telling him to hunch over and look defeated so as to avoid questioning. It worked, and Ramsay was soon leading his new prisoner down to the dungeons. 

“Ramsay?” Theon’s voice was small, and Ramsay felt a pang in his heart. 

“I am only bringing you down here to avoid suspicion. I swear it.” Ramsay looked him in the eye. “I care for you. If I did not, you’d be strung up and stripped of flesh by now. Please, Theon. I cannot have you sleep in my bed, as much as I wish I could. Do not hate me for this. I must pretend to be cruel. I cannot let anyone know how we see each other.”

“It’s cold.” Theon reached for his hand, squeezed it. “And dark.”

“You are strong.” Ramsay led him into a room, locking the door behind them, using leather to strap Theon’s wrists together behind his back. It was a pretty sight, but Ramsay would rather have Theon in his bed and someone else looking scared in the dungeons. “I am cruel. You will see it. You will hear it. But not to you. I will not hurt you unless necessary to keep us safe.” 

“Please don’t go. It’s dark.”

“If I stay, you have to scream. You have to beg, and pretend as if I am hurting you. No one can know that I am not. No one can know how I care for you, do you understand?”

“I’m scared.” Theon admitted, and Ramsay never felt so fond of anything or anyone as he did as he looked at Theon in that moment, so vulnerable and trusting. 

“You must be. You need to be. No one can know the truth. If they know, it will be worse than sleeping alone and pretending to be hurt. I am cruel, Theon. I will still hunt, and hurt, and kill. But not you.” 

“I don’t want to be down here.” Theon whispered, and Ramsay gathered him in his arms, held him snugly, letting Theon relax against him. 

“It is safest for you here. As you have said before, it is sinful for a man to desire another man. No one can know. No one but us. Theon, I know you are scared, but you must trust me. Do you trust me?”

“I-I do.” He mumbled, voice muffled by the way he was pressing his face against Ramsay’s chest. 

“I care for you very much, my little squid. I will keep you safe. I will skin alive anyone who so much as thinks about hurting you.” He gently stroked Theon’s back. “Now, we can sit, I can hold you and you can stay in my arms, but you must scream. You must scream and cry and plead, as if your skin is being peeled from your bones. You must pretend. Can you do that? To keep us safe?”

Theon nodded, and Ramsay gently kissed him, sitting down and pulling Theon onto his lap. He curled up there against him, letting out a small, content sigh at the position as Ramsay’s arms wrapped around him. And then he screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

“Are you hungry?” 

Ramsay’s hand softly caressed the side of Theon’s face, along where his stubble was growing in to become more of a beard. Theon nodded slow, tired, dark bags beneath the pretty eyes staring affectionately at Ramsay. 

“I’m sorry. I wish I could feed you more, but the suspicions it would raise...” He reached into the bag he had been carrying, pulling out a loaf of bread wrapped in a cloth, some dried meat in a separate cloth, and a skin of wine. “I could have a meal brought down here, and claim I need to eat while torturing you. But that would risk someone seeing that you are not being treated as a prisoner.”

Theon eyed the food hungrily, and Ramsay felt guilt twist within him. 

“I miss you,” Theon murmured as Ramsay removed his restraints. He was not put up on the wooden saltire in the room, but he had to have his ankles and wrists bound. If anyone did happen to enter his dungeon cell without permission, at least he would look somewhat like a prisoner. Even if there was a blanket on the floor for him to lay atop of. “When you’re gone, I miss you. I don’t like being alone down here.” 

“And I do not like being alone up there, in my bed. I do not like the emptiness, and the lack of your warmth as winter approaches. Yet it must be like this.” 

Theon sighed, a sad little sound, and he grabbed hold of Ramsay’s hand the second he was able. He was an affectionate thing, touchy, and his gaze was often heated when they spent time together. They’d never gone further than stroking each other, kissing and laying together in bed as would a man and a woman, yet Ramsay wanted more. Craved more. And sometimes, he could see in Theon’s eyes that he did as well. 

Normally, Ramsay Bolton would take what he wanted. If he felt desire pool in his gut at the sight of someone, he would have them at his earliest convenience. But not Theon. Even considering engaging in such acts with him in the dungeons made Ramsay’s gut twist uncomfortably. It felt wrong. Something about the handsome prince made him feel different than he ever had before. He did not want to hurt him, to scare him, to hear him scream and plead and beg for mercy. He did not want to take him if he did not want it too. And even if Theon did want it, something about the dungeon felt wrong. Ramsay did not want to have him so intimately in a place where Theon did not feel safe, where he may feel as if he were required to. So even when Theon looked at him with heated eyes, with pouty lips and a bulge between his legs, Ramsay said nothing. 

“Sit down, my Prince. Eat.”

“Of course, my Lord.” 

Theon gave him a small, playful smile that caused an odd fluttering in his stomach as he sat on the wooden bench in front of the small table. Ramsay sat behind him, reaching a hand to softly stroke Theon’s back, soothing any soreness he may have had from sleeping on the floor. Theon sighed happily at the sensation, a healthy pink flush coming to his cheeks as he began to eat. 

For a moment, as he watched him eat, Ramsay wished Theon were a woman. He would be just as attractive, even if I’m a different way, and perhaps then they could marry, could tie their houses together instead of hiding away in the dungeons, scared to be caught even just holding hands... he pushed the thoughts away. 

“Ramsay?”

“Yes, Theon?”

“Why do you not hurt me?” 

Ramsay was momentarily wordless, and Theon continued to speak. 

“You’re cruel. You rape, you murder. You torture and hurt people for fun. I can hear others in the dungeon when you’re not with me, I can hear them screaming. So why not me?”

“I don’t know.” He’d been fond of others before, but the fondness led him to rape them, to hold them down and make them scream, to kill them. His fondness caused him to desire their pain, not their pleasure. 

“You’re an evil man.”

“But not to you. You slept with women almost every night, spoke down to them, treated them like objects. And yet you don’t do the same to me. Is it because I am a man?” 

“No, not because you’re a man.” Theon swallowed what he was eating, reaching for Ramsay’s hand, guiding it to rest on the center of his chest. He could feel his heart beating beneath his palm, just a little faster than would be normal. “Because I desire you here as well as...” He guided the hand down to rest between his legs, “...here.” 

“You little minx.” Ramsay grinned, pulling his hand away. “If only you were a woman, we’d need not hide away down here.”

“Oh yes, if only. Then I’d have a nice wet cunt between my legs, and we could marry, and I could give you many wailing babes.” Theon teased, and though it was a joke, it made Ramsay’s heart twist and swell. Oh, if only...

“I’ve never felt for anyone the way I feel for you.” 

“I know.” Theon’s expression suddenly went serious. “Do you... do you desire to hurt me?”

“Even to imagine doing so causes me great discomfort.” Ramsay answered honestly. “I desire to cause pain, yes, but not yours. I still hurt others...”

“But not me.” 

“Not you.” He agreed. 

“Ramsay.”

“Yes?”

“Do you love me?”

Those glimmering green eyes bored into his own, icy and pale, and Ramsay felt as if the word ‘love’ were a pail of ice water that had just been poured atop him. Love? He supposed he did. 

“I would marry you if it were allowed, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“It’s not. I loved Robb. I believe I love you. It feels as if I do.” 

_I love you._ Ramsay’s breath caught in his throat at those words. When had he ever heard them spoken to him before? When? His mother had said those, when he was very small and not so cruel, but never anyone else. Not Reek, nor Domeric, nor his father Roose. No one loved Ramsay Bolton. No one but this prince, his prince, handsome and strong with eyes full of affection and also nervousness. 

“I may.”

“Then take me to your bed.” Theon pleaded. “Let people think you’re forcing yourself on me. Let them think you’re torturing me. You’ve done it before, I’m sure- taken an innocent girl into your bed, taken pleasure from her pain. No one will find it odd. Men bleed just the same as women. I’ll scream, I’ll cry, I’ll pretend, just don’t make me spend another night without you beside me. I grew so used to falling asleep in your arms.” 

It was tempting. And it wasn’t a bad plan, truly, Theon had made good points. 

“If anyone saw you in my bed... if my father saw you...” 

“I am already disgraced, a turncloak and a traitor. You are already a bastard, known to be cruel and senseless. What would this do to our reputations? People hate us anyway.” 

Darkness flashed across Ramsay’s expression at the reminder of the status of his birth. “My father-“

“Bugger your father.” Theon spat. “He doesn’t care for you. I care for you. You care for me. So let me sleep beside you. Hold me as you would a wife, if you had one. Make love to me while the whole world thinks you are skinning me alive.”

Ramsay’s eyes widened, and a smirk crept back onto his face. “You are filthy, Theon Greyjoy.”

“Make me filthier.” He challenged. Ramsay hadn’t even realized that Theon had finished eating, had finished all the meat and most of the bread, had drank all the wine, and now Theon was crawling onto his lap. “Bring me to your chambers.”

“Look scared then, little squid. If you want people to think I’m going to hurt you, we must both act the part.”

Theon turned out to be a brilliant actor, trembling and squirming, eyes wide as he was carried around the Dreadfort, looking desperately at all the staff they passed on the way to Ramsay’s room. He dropped his act the second the door closed and locked behind them, grabbing hold of Ramsay’s face and kissing him. 

They moaned into each other’s mouths, kissing and gasping and stumbling back toward the bed. They fell onto it, Ramsay atop of Theon. They fumbled to remove their clothing, fingers slipping on laces, and by the time they were both finally nude, they were also breathless. Theon grinned a teasing little grin and opened his mouth. 

“Oh no- you can’t- no!” He howled, adding a scream at the end for good measure before leaning up and kissing Ramsay, and hand moving down between them to feel how hard he was. They were both terribly hard, erections flushed and leaking, and Theon was spreading his legs so obscenely wide. 

“You’re a good little actor, aren’t you?” Ramsay growled, grinning at him as he spat onto his fingers, reaching down and rubbing one up against Theon’s hole. It was tight, small and pink and puckered, and Theon made the sweetest noise when a finger slid inside of it. 

“Ramsay,” He gasped, his eyes so wide. “I-it feels so weird.”

“Should I stop.”

“Drowned God, no.”

Ramsay smirked, twisting and curling that finger until Theon felt loose enough for a second, and then a third. He was fucking Theon with those three spit-slick fingers, the Ironborn bucking his hips and gasping, his cock throbbing and leaking all over his belly. It was a beautiful sight, as was the desperate need on Theon’s face when Ramsay suddenly pulled his fingers out. 

Theon took it as another chance to scream as if he were in horrible agony, and Ramsay couldn’t help but laugh before spitting into his hand, using it to slick up his achingly hard cock. 

“Drama queen.” He said fondly, lining up the head of his cock with Theon’s sweet little hole. 

“Drama Prince.” Theon corrected, but he was gasping and crying out a second later as Ramsay began to push into him. Ramsay’s cock was thick, and Theon was certainly stretching to accommodate him. He went slow, sinking in inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. Theon squirmed beneath him, wiggling his ass down on Ramsay’s cock, trying his best to adjust. His eyes were wet, and Ramsay felt a pang of guilt. 

“Are you okay? Should I stop?”

“No, please don’t, I just- I just need a moment to adjust. Don’t pull out, Ramsay, please.” His voice was just a little higher pitched than usual, and soon his squirming was becoming grinding and his whines of discomfort were becoming little moans and whimpers at the feeling of being so full. 

“Should I move now?”

“Oh please, please,” Theon nodded urgently, his back arching and lifting off the mattress as Ramsay pulled out and thrusted back in. He cried out, loud, and the sound went straight to Ramsay’s cock. 

“Good boy,” He growled, picking up a steady pace, and Theon flushed and clenched and moaned at the praise. “Be loud. As loud as you want, and then louder. Make the whole castle fear what I’m doing to you.” 

“Oh!” Theon practically wailed, trembling from the pleasure, his hips bucking to meet each and every deep, hard thrust. “Ramsay, please! Please! Please! Ah- fuck! Please!” 

To anyone who didn’t know what was truly going on, who couldn’t see the look of absolute ecstasy on Theon’s face and the way his cock was leaking copious amounts of precise onto his belly, it would sound as if he were in horrible pain and begging for mercy. But no, he was in a world of pleasure, intense and white-hot and running through his veins. They stared at each other as they fucked, sea green eyes meeting ice blue, lust and love and affection filling both of their gazes. 

“I can’t, I can’t- Ramsay, please, oh fuck, please, I’m- I can’t-!” Theon’s arms wrapped around him, nails digging into his back. 

“You close, Theon?” Ramsay whispered, and Theon nodded desperately. 

He sped up, thrusts brutally hard and deep, and suddenly he hit a spot that had Theon screaming in earnest, eyes rolling back and body shuddering as he came. His come splattered all over his and Ramsay’s bellies and chests, making quite the mess, and the incredibly tightness of Theon clenching around his cock had Ramsay coming just seconds after, pumping him full of it. They stared at each other as they came down, panting softly, both dazed and blissful as Ramsay gently pulled out and collapsed on the bed next to Theon, pulling him to his chest and holding him. Theon made a happy little sound that reminded Ramsay of a purring kitten and nuzzled his face up against the crook of Ramsay’s neck. 

“You’re so happy full of my come, aren’t you?”

“Mhm.” Theon hummed, eyes falling shut. His face was flushed and his skin was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, but he was happily pressed up close. against Ramsay. “Tired.”

“Then sleep, little prince.” Ramsay soothed, one arm wrapped around him and the other reaching over to stroke his hair. “I will be here when you wake, I promise.”

Soon enough, Theon’s breathing slowed and evened out, signaling he was asleep, and Ramsay soon fell asleep too.


End file.
